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I set my jaw. “Believe me, I’m paying attention.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a half-smile—dangerous and strangely enticing. “I trust you are.” He gestures toward the door. “Shall I escort you back to your room?”

A spark of rebellion flares within me, but I can’t exactly roam the fortress alone.This is the trap.My entire life is pinned under his watchful presence.

“Fine,” I say through clenched teeth. “Lead on, Prince.”

We exit the archive, and the wards shimmer into place behind us. The halls are quieter now—less foot traffic, more flickering torches that cast elongated shadows. Each step echoes, reminding me how easily the fortress could swallow me if I stray.

A figure rounds the corner ahead, nearly colliding with us. It’s Eiroren, robed in a deep blue fabric shot with silver threads. She inclines her head at Xelith, but her gaze slides over me with thinly veiled contempt.

“My prince,” she says in a silky voice. “I was just looking for you. The council inquired about your progress with our… rebellious guest.” Her eyes flick to me again, and I sense her satisfaction at the mild flush in my cheeks.

Xelith’s expression remains cool. “You can tell them I’m handling it. They’ll see the results soon enough.”

Eiroren’s lips curve. “I’ll do just that.” Then she lowers her voice, leaning slightly toward him. “Shall I inform Lady Alyssium about your absence at tomorrow’s feast? Or do you intend to attend with your new… companion?”

My heart stumbles. A feast?

Xelith’s jaw tightens. “Tomorrow’s feast is the least of my concerns right now.”

Eiroren arches a brow, as though filing away that response. Then she steps aside, clearing our path. “As you say. Good day, Prince Xelith. Lysandra.”

She sweeps off, leaving behind the faintest scent of exotic incense.

The air crackles with tension. I shoot Xelith a sidelong look. “A feast, hmm? Another grand display of Dark Elf decadence while humans starve in the farmland?”

He gives me a measured look. “It’s a political function. Hardly relevant to your immediate predicament.”

Anger simmers under my skin. “Everything you do is relevant to me. My life depends on your every move.”

A flicker of regret crosses his features—so brief I almost miss it. “I never claimed this arrangement was fair.”

Silence drapes between us, thick as the fortress walls. We continue down the corridor, arriving at the door to my chamber. For a moment, we both stand there, neither moving.

“Stay in your room for tonight. I’ll notify you if anything changes with the farmland or the council’s timeline.”

My lips press into a thin line. “And if I want to wander?”

His gaze hardens. “Then you’ll find yourself confronted by wards and suspicious guards. You might enthrall one or two—if that’s indeed what’s happening—but not all. The fortress will crush you.”

My stomach tightens at his blunt warning, especially the way he hints again at my potential enthrallment.He’s not letting that go, is he?

Without waiting for my reply, he steps forward, opening the door. I slip inside, bracing myself for some parting taunt. But he simply meets my gaze with an intensity that makes my heart skip.

“Rest,” he murmurs. “We’ll talk again soon.”

I swallow, nodding stiffly. Then the door closes between us, wards humming. I’m alone.

Exhaling shakily, I pace the chamber, mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. I want to hate him wholeheartedly, to see him as the same kind of monster who destroyed my rebellion. But he’s not quite that simple, is he? His offers, while self-serving, do hint at some twisted path to preserving human lives.

My gaze wander to the tall mirror across from the bed. I approach it, half expecting my reflection to warp or shimmer. But it’s just me: black hair in a loose braid, bruises shadowing my jaw, eyes edged with exhaustion.Is there truly Siren blood in these veins?The notion would’ve been laughable a week ago, but after everything I’ve witnessed…

A pang tightens my chest. If it’s true, my magic might be the only weapon I have in this fortress. But using it without understanding it is like juggling lit torches—dangerous and unpredictable.Should I try to harness it? Or keep it buried?

Laying a palm on the mirror’s surface, I let my eyes drift shut. A faint tingle flares in my core, as if responding to my anxious thoughts. The memory of that guard’s dazed expression floods me, followed by Xelith’s laser-like scrutiny.

Slowly, I open my eyes. My reflection stares back, calm on the surface, turmoil beneath.I might survive. I might even save some rebels. But at what cost to my soul?